CHAPTER XXXVIII.
He was promptly obeyed. With the greatest eagerness my guards cut asunder the ropes that confined me. I rose up free, but I remained motionless, for surprise rooted me to the spot.
“That is not all,” said Pierrot, and snatching a dagger from one of the negroes, he handed it to me. “You can now have your wish; Heaven would not be pleased should I dispute your right to dispose of my life. Three times you have preserved it. Strike, it is yours, I say, and if you wish, strike!”
There was no sign of anger or of bitterness in his face; he appeared resigned and mournful.
The very vengeance offered to me by the man with whom I had so much longed to stand face to face, prevented my seizing the opportunity. I felt that all my hatred for Pierrot, all my love for Marie, could not induce me to commit a cowardly murder; besides, however damning appearances might be, yet a voice from the depths of my heart warned me that no criminal, no guilty man, would thus dare to stand before me and brave my vengeance. Shall I confess it to you, there was a certain imperious fascination about this extraordinary being which conquered me in spite of myself; I pushed aside the dagger he offered to me.
“Wretch,” cried I, “I wish to kill you in fair fight, but I am no assassin. Defend yourself.”
“Defend myself,” replied he, in tones of astonishment, “and against whom?”
“Against me!”
He started back. “Against you! that is the only thing in which I cannot obey you. Look at Rask there—I could easily kill him, for he would let me do it; but as for making him fight me, the thing would be impossible, he would not understand me if I told him to do so. I do not understand you; in your case I am Rask.”
After a short silence, he added, “I see the gleam of hate in your eyes, as you once saw it in mine. I know that you have suffered much, that your uncle has been murdered, your plantations burned, your friends slaughtered—yes, they have plundered your house, and devastated your inheritance; but it was not I that did these things, it was my people. Listen to me. I one day told you that your people had done me much injury, you said that you must not be blamed for the acts of others. What was my reply?”
His face grew brighter as he awaited my reply, evidently expecting that I should embrace him; but fixing an angry gaze upon him, I answered—
“You disdain all responsibility as to the acts of your people, but you say nothing about what you have yourself done.”
“What have I done?” asked he.
I stepped up close to him, and in a voice of thunder I demanded, “Where is Marie? what have you done with Marie?”
At this question a cloud passed over his face; he seemed momentarily embarrassed. At last he spoke. “Maria!” said he, “yes; you are right—but too many ears listen to us here.”
His embarrassment, the words “You are right,” raised the hell of jealousy in my heart, yet still he gazed upon me with a perfectly open countenance, and in a voice trembling with emotion said, “Do not suspect me, I implore you. Besides, I will tell you everything; love me, as I love you, with perfect trust.”
He paused to mark the effect of his words, and then added tenderly, “May I not again call you brother?”
But I was a prey to my jealous feelings, and his friendly words seemed to me but the deep machinations of a hypocrite, and only served to exasperate me more. “Dare you recall the time when you did so, you monster of ingratitude?” I exclaimed.
He interrupted me, a tear shining in his eye: “It is not I who am ungrateful.”
“Well then,” I continued, “tell me what you have done with Marie?”
“Not here, not here,” answered he, “other ears than ours listen to our words; besides, you would not believe me, and time presses. The day has come, and you must be removed from this. All is at an end. Since you doubt me, far better would it have been for you to take the dagger and finish all; but wait a little before you take what you call your vengeance—I must first free you. Come with me to Biassou.”
His manner, both in speaking and acting, concealed a mystery which I could not understand. In spite of all my prejudices against the man, his voice always made my heart vibrate. In listening to him a certain hidden power that he possessed subjugated me. I found myself hesitating between vengeance and pity, between the bitterest distrust and the blindest confidence. I followed him.
